


I, You, We

by MerhppDerhpp



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Codependency, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Haruno Sakura-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Inner Haruno Sakura-centric, Mental Health Issues, Other, Out of Character, Out of Character Uchiha Sasuke, Out of Character Uzumaki Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerhppDerhpp/pseuds/MerhppDerhpp
Summary: (All I want is to be whole, Sakura. All I want is for you to be happy with your beautiful, imperfect self.But that's not possible if I'm the only one living for the both of us.)





	1. How The Quote Goes

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my stories from FFN. Chapter lengths will vary, but they'll usually be fairly short and the updates will pretty much always be sporadic. Apologies.

* * *

Your mother wants you to be unfailingly kind and sweet while your father wants you to be strong and unyieldingly firm.

They argue over what you should be, never once thinking that you watching them do so would hurt you or that you could be a mixture of both because humans are dynamic and _you are human, too._

You've become conflicted, but you try for their sake. They are your parents and you love them, so you try. It's very admirable.

So you try to be kind to those who don't deserve it. They spit in the face of your kindness and your sweet smiles because you are... _strange_ in their eyes.

And that, in and of itself, is strange, isn't it? When anomalies should be considered fairly standard in a world where everything is a little odd; when anomalies are considered to be fairly standard, but somehow _you_ just don't fit.

It's complicated, I suppose. People are complicated.

. . .

* * *

. . .

When you come home covered in filth and bruises, your parents use your pitiful form as examples for their own beliefs as to how you should be to survive in this world. You try to calm the both of them with a tiny, shaky voice that is immediately swallowed by the ocean made of their frustrations.

I doubt they can even hear themselves over the crashing of the waves; you don't stand a chance right now.

Maybe you never have. _(Maybe you never will.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

Next time, you attempt to be firm.

It's difficult for you because you are inherently kind and have no real wish to harm others. Nonetheless, you try. It doesn't work out well because it's too easy to shake your resolve. You are quick to cry and cover your face; to shield yourself from all the bad in the world.

It hurts you. Your chest constricts and all you want to do is hide in a corner so you can drown in the beginnings of self-loathing.

You don't understand that it's this particular moment where you divide yourself; where my disconnected existence is solidified. You don't realise, not yet. You are too young to understand that I'm here, always watching. _(__**Always.**__ But I don't want to be here.)_

And though I want to help you, I can't do that if you don't acknowledge me. I can't help you if you don't listen to me. You don't understand that if you don't accept me, then the disconnection between us will widen and I'll inevitably become something that you can't be.

Your father looks at you with confliction storming in his eyes of cerulean. _(Your mother taught you that word; cerulean. Back when she would look at her husband and resentment didn't bubble between them. Back when I wasn't here and you were whole.)_ He loves you, so it's hard for him to look at you be so small and fragile for anyone to break. You've been hurt physically and emotionally, but you don't yet understand that it hurts him, too.

_(I sometimes wonder if you'll ever understand.)_

He wants you to be strong so that you have the will to stand on your own even when he's gone. He doesn't say this, so you can't decipher the meaning in his eyes. You think he's disappointed in you, instead. _(And maybe he __**is**__ disappointed. In you; in your mother; in himself. __**This family is broken.**__)_

Your mother tidies you up and makes you pretty. She tries to make you smile as she, too, realises that her child is in pain. It does little, but you still appreciate feeling somewhat loved and like you're not a disappointment. Even if it's only for a moment.

They are young parents, and they don't know what they're doing. You are precious to them. They want the best for you, even if their efforts are causing you more harm than good.

_(Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works. Isn't that how the quote goes?)_


	2. Shouldn't Be Surprised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll upload the first five chapters in quick succession since they're so short.

"I want to teach her how to be a ninja," your father declares from the kitchen as you sit in the middle of the staircase and listen. He knows you're there, but he lets you think that you're being sneaky. "She needs to know how to protect herself."

"No." Your mother's voice is hard with resolve. It's much different than the soft murmurs of motherly love, you realise. "I won't have you choosing her future as a ninja."

You hear him scoff, and your tiny fingers grip the rails of the stairs as you scoot closer to it. "As opposed to you choosing her future as a civilian? Do you think you're any better?" is his quick and sharp retort. _(It feels like it cuts you and you wonder if your mother feels it, too.)_

This is when you leave. You go back upstairs and enter your room because you've already heard this before. They don't realise that they should ask you what you want to do, but they do realise that you'd be indecisive even if they did.

You want to please them both, after all.

And you can't.

The realisation hurts. Resentment begins to build up within your small body and you try to push away this negative emotion, along with all the other bad feelings that accompany it. _(Because that's healthy, isn't it? Bottle up the emotions and hope they don't eventually drown you.)_

They disappear into the dark crevices of your mind; the place where I reside.

I reluctantly take your unwanted emotions. _(With resignation in my being.)_ I know that they will change me into something that will be pleasant for neither of us. But you can't hear me, so I can't tell you to learn to accept that you're not perfect and that you never will be. I can't tell you that you don't _need_ to be perfect.

You are beautiful in your own way. You are your own existence. You shouldn't be ashamed that you're alive, you know.

I'm sorry that I can't do more for you. As you learn to perfect an insincere smile, I'll probably come to hate you. I don't want to, but I'm sure it's inevitable. With what little time I have to be an existence untainted by your darkest emotions, I will try to help you in the meantime.

I know it's not enough… I know. I will try, nonetheless.

_(All we can do is try.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

He's very cute, I understand. He draws in your eye like he does with everyone else. There are many things to admire about him; he's an Uchiha and the younger brother of the prodigious clan heir. Of course, there are going to be things to admire him for. He's talented and pretty and somewhat 'cool' in that special way that only children can be.

You focus too much on him, however. _(It irritates me.)_ You're toying with the idea to enter the Ninja Academy just because you know that he will, rather than because of any personal desire to become a ninja yourself. _(Wow, Sakura. Really?)_

Your mother will be devastated, but your father will be pleased.

That is, of course, until you inevitably tell them that it's because you have your eye on a boy that's never even looked in your general direction before.

I've learned that there are times when the emotions you've forced into my space spill back into yours. It's the only way I can attempt ̶_ (and only attempt because it rarely works out)_ ̶ to get you to rethink your decisions. It's unintentional, most of the time. Because _you're_ the one in control and _you're_ the one who seems to have developed an unhealthy habit of pushing down feelings that you don't want to feel.

_(They'll be so disappointed to realise that you're choosing your future because of a boy who doesn't even know your name.)_

You still don't know that I'm here or that I'm actually an existence with a thought process of my own. You understand that I'm a side of you that you don't want to accept, but you don't understand enough.

_(It's never enough. You're never enough._ _ **We're** _ _never enough.)_

You think that it's only you who conjures all these words of discouragement and doubt, so you become annoyed with yourself. Because you should be able to control yourself and your thoughts, _right?_

I laugh. It's a harsh, bitter thing that is swallowed by the dark and heard by no one; not even me.

. . .

* * *

. . .

You pride yourself on your intelligence; on your ability to think rationally and quickly._ (If only I could be proud of you as well.)_

Somehow, you come up with the idea to introduce yourself to Uchiha Sasuke and get to know him a little more before you _really_ decide if you want to enter the Ninja Academy for him or not. You smile to yourself, nodding with determination as your bottled emotions are forced back into my area of being.

_(It's so cramped and I feel like I'm suffocating. I would shout at you in frustration, but my screams would be smothered and consumed by the emptiness around me. It's devastating to realise just how bitter and broken I am steadily becoming __**because** _ _of you.)_

For all your proud intelligence, you don't realise that approaching your current object of fascination would put you on the radar of other little girls who are much more vicious than you are. You already have enough troubles with the few bullies already in your life and now you wish to add more on your plate by drawing the attention of others?

It's not because you can hear me that you take pause but, nonetheless, I'm grateful that you decide to think further on this. It's the small blessings that I have to appreciate or I will be unable to appreciate anything. _(I'll forget to do this, soon enough.)_ I don't need that, but I have quite a few things that I don't want nor need, so I'll probably get it, regardless.

You decide to learn more about Sasuke before you approach him. In your head, you think that it'd be less likely for him to push you away as he does to others who are brave enough to walk up to him if you do. In different circumstances, your father would be proud.

He would be proud if you were looking for the weaknesses of your bullies so that you could create a plan to cull them from your life. But you are too kind to do that to them, you often think to yourself. _(Kind, you say. __**Kind?**__ Is that it? I think you might be mistaking it for something else.)_

And yet, you're somehow ambitious enough to pursue a heavily popular child of your generation.

You truly are a conflicting existence, aren't you? I already know, but I still manage to be surprised almost every time I'm reminded, even when I shouldn't be.

_I'm_ here, after all; I'm the biggest form of proof of your shattered being.

_(I shouldn't be surprised. I shouldn't be_ _ **anything.**__)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	3. Don't Make Me

He's suspicious of your smile.

He narrows his eyes at you and flicks his gaze between your eyes and the practised, desperate curve of your lips. You can't fool someone like him; a clan boy who's likely used to being greeted with smiles that hide their owners' true intentions. _(He's the spare but he's still important. Connections are important.)_

You feel your heart squeeze in rising panic and despair as you abruptly and belatedly realise that you've never really had a conversation with another child ̶_(or anyone that's not one of your parents, actually) _ ̶before. You spend more of your time learning _how_ to socialise and _how _to make friends rather than actually going out and approaching people. _(People are scary. I know. People are cruel.)_

You've become timid as a result of being harassed whenever you're seen by a particular group ̶_(I want them dead and gone but they're only children themselves. Wait. Does that matter?) ̶_and it's never helped that you've always been naturally shy. But you don't even try to stand up against them, so they will continue to hurt you unless you can prove to them that you're not one to be bullied for their own self-esteem. _(No. It doesn't matter that they're children.__** It doesn't matter. **__You're my priority.)_

You're too passive, so now you're near tears in front of your fascination even though hardly any words have been exchanged. Something happens, then.

_(Something cracks; something breaks. It's a dam. But it's okay; I'm already drowning.)_

Though unexpectedly delayed, I begin to notice of the onslaught of negativity that you're trying to force into my space. I try ̶_(I try, I'm always __**trying**__) _ ̶to contain it all but it's difficult and I can't keep track of what you're doing. _(It's black and white and everything grey. It's hell. __**It's nothing.**__)_

By the time things settle, the first thing I see is the irritation boiling within eyes of ink._ (I wonder if he'll see me if he glowers hard enough.)_ Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you chant _over and over_ in your head how this was a mistake. _(A mistake? Yes. It was a mistake. I'm a mistake. Please, stop. Make me stop.)_

I'm inclined to agree as he ̶_(Sasuke, Sasuke, __**Sasuke**__) _ ̶begins to sneer at you. "You're even worse than the others," he hisses at you, and you reel back in bewildered shock. You feel like your heart is shattering; some part of me hopes that it does so I can pick up a specific set of pieces to rebuild you with.

_(I'm not supposed to think like that._ _ **What have you done?** _ _I don't want to be like this. I don't want this.)_

"You're so _fragile;_ all I have to do is glance at you to know and that's just… _No._" He frowns as he examines you from head to toe, making you feel like he can see _everything_. It's horribly violating, in a way. "You don't fight back if someone tries to hurt you, do you? You're the kind that just _takes it,_ cries and tries to smile like everything's fine. I hate people like that; those who just can't stand up for themselves no matter what. It's illogical and I have no pity for people like you. I don't have the time."

And then Sasuke simply turns and walks away. You watch him go, frozen, before you eventually sink to your knees and feel your heart crumble within your ribcage.

_(Harsh. True. Harsh?_ _ **True.** _ _Listen, listen,_ _ **listen!** _ _Please. Please?)_

I feel your hurt; your anger. I feel it and I want you to listen because you can be so much more than you are now. You can improve by using those words for yourself. I want you to succeed, to stand strong so that you can be the best you can be. You don't have to be perfect, but you have to _try._

_(All we can do is try until we die.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

You come home later that day with puffy eyes and scraped knees and you tell your parents that you will go to the Ninja Academy rather than the Civilian Academy. Your mother, expectedly, is devastated; she drops to her knees and covers her face with her hands as she grieves for her daughter's future._ (Does that remind you of anything?)_

She can only be happy that you are kind to a fault. It's _nothing _to be happy about. Not in this world where kindness is either foolish or brave; you know which one you fall into. _(Don't you?)_

Your father observes you with his arms folded and his expression solemn. "Why?" he questions, and you swallow your saliva as your already jittery nerves become even more so.

You smile in such a way that it hurts terribly. It's directed at his feet. "I'm not okay with how I am," you whisper in answer, and it would probably bring me to tears if I were capable of crying. I'm proud of you for admitting it.

I only want the best for you. Even if I'm starting to hate and resent you.

_(Why won't you hurry?)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

I'm starting to dislike him, if only because of your influence.

You're torn because you still look at him with a sense of childish longing ̶_(what do you __**want,**__ Sakura? A friend? __**A boyfriend?**__) _ ̶even as you remain aggrieved by his former words towards you. He doesn't make eye contact with you, even though you've been assigned to the seat next to him. _(No. You just want someone to care. __**I care,**__ but what does that matter?)_

He doesn't like to make eye contact with anyone, really. Probably because that might make it seem like he's interested if he does.

I wonder what his life is like at home, under the roof of his clan head and father alongside his exceptional brother. Not to mention his mother, who is renowned in her own right. Expectations are forced onto his shoulders and he can't fail them because of the consequences. _(He's better than you at that. Not perfect, but better. He does his best to survive.)_

You don't think of that, of course.

You focus more on the fact that not even your initiative to train with your father can help you in the face of emotional confrontation. You're still self-conscious; still shy and easily breakable. The others are aware because they'll look for your weaknesses just because they can, rather than for any objective reasons.

_(It's only become worse, hasn't it? The bullying? The jeers haunt your dreams because you can_ _ **never** _ _escape, can you?)_

You're trying to contain it all and smile in forgiveness because that's what your mother tells you to do. All these emotions that you've bottled up will burst soon, and a large part of me doesn't want that to happen. _(Another part of me does. It's the part that is feral and tired of you pretending that you're okay with how things are. __**Stop hurting yourself.**__)_

It's not enough that you're starting to learn the basics of how to be a ninja. You need to learn how to be a person first and no one can help you with that. Only you can because you won't let me _help._

_(You don't even know that I exist and, am I bothered? Does it bother me? No.)_

You have to acknowledge and accept me before you can start being a person. We're not meant to be separated. We're not meant to be 'you and I.' Here we are, anyway.

_(I'm lying. It bothers me. I want to scream and tear at your skull because I ̶)_

"You know, Sasuke-kun, if you want someone less annoying to sit next to you…" One of your female peers has approached, batting her eyes at the brooding Uchiha like they're much older than they actually are.

You're all so young. What do you care about romance? Or is it the fantasy of romance that entices you all? Sasuke; the prince. The rest of you; the princesses. I wonder if you know how that story would end?

_(It only ends in tragedy. It can't end in any other way. What are happy endings even like?)_

"Fuck off," mutters an unfamiliar voice. Crude and rough and yet, not. "Just, _fuck off._"

I'm ̶_(you're, we're) _ ̶bewildered until I realise that it's a lower pitch of _your _voice. It's only for a moment, that_ I_ move_ your_ eyes and meet the eyes of the boy who took your heart and crushed it without remorse. His eyes are wide with surprise, perhaps like yours are. There's another kind of emotion there that I can't quite decipher in my confusion. _(Oh, god, he sees me. __**He sees me.**__)_

Then you have your voice and your eyes back. I want to ignore this moment; I've never wanted control over you.

I've never wanted to live whilst you and I are still disjointed.

_(Please, don't make me.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	4. Deaf To My Pleas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, I wonder if writing angst means I have childhood traumas.

You're afraid now.

_("W-what did you say, you freak?!"_

_"I ̶ I don't…! I'm s-sorry!"_

_"She said, 'fuck off.' Here, let me say it again so you might listen this time;_ _ **fuck off.** _ _Please.")_

You know that I'm here and he knows that I'm here, so he watches you like he's never done before. You're both delighted ̶_(look at him, taking notice of you) _ ̶and despaired ̶_(he's looking at you; but he's looking for__** me**__) _ ̶because the attention he gives you is too much to handle. It gains the attention of others and that's never been a good thing for you.

_(It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter._ _ **They don't matter.** _ _)_

I want you to focus on me; on fixing the discordance within yourself before you go off fantasising. The gap only grows larger the longer we're apart, you have to understand. You've lost sight of something you've never found but already had, regardless.

You're losing yourself, and you don't know how to get yourself back because you've never even known who you are in the first place. You're more _absolutely terrified_ than merely afraid and that's okay. It's scary, especially when you're little more than half a decade old.

_(I have no age. No name. No life. I want to stop existing. But I don't get what I want. Aren't we so very alike?)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

"It seems to be an intense form of Dissociative Identity Disorder," the medic-nin announces, cutting off the chakra flow from his fingers and looking to your parents as they stand behind you.

Your mother gasps, horrified. Influenced by her reaction, you yourself become horrified because you don't understand what Dissociative Identity Disorder is. _Surely_, your mother does. _(Your mother doesn't know. She doesn't know a lot of things.)_

You stare at the medic-nin, whose glasses hang loosely off his nicely sculpted nose and it captures your attention. The light reflecting off them is pretty. "I've honestly… never seen anything like it. It's much different than the common forms of DID in the sense that this second personality ̶otherwise known as the alter ̶ is active alongside the primary personality," he explains, as light eyes with an indiscernible colour ̶_(beige, probably) _ ̶slide over to you with a speculative glint.

"How do you know?" your father asks, his voice smooth and neutral as though he's unruffled by such devastating news. The implications hurt your heart.

It's a front. He's a _ninja._ Ninja aren't meant to reveal their vulnerabilities and _someone_ has to be the calm one in this situation. Obviously, your mother is out of the question. _(Stop being so goddamn __**sensitive,**__ Sakura. Why do you have to be like this?)_

"As you know, spiritual chakra and physical chakra are separated in the head and the chest until they're merged in the centre of the stomach. Sakura-chan's spiritual chakra has branched off and is creating its own waves to reveal an active thought process. However, it's hard to detect and there's a type of disconnection between the two identities. Likely, the alter is watching through Sakura-chan's eyes at this very moment but is currently unable to control the main body."

How strange it is to be acknowledged as an existence. It's extremely anomalous. _(__**It hurts.**__ I don't want to be here. Am I supposed to be __**happy**__ about this?)_

"So how do we get rid of the second personality?" your mother demands, and I'm surprisingly offended that she speaks of me as if I'm a pest; a virus to be culled. _(I shouldn't be. I __**am**__ a virus of sorts.)_ "Before it takes over our Sakura-chan and wears her skin like… Like some kind of puppet!"

_(I laugh. I can't hear it. You can, though, and it terrifies you. It terrifies_ _ **me.** _ _)_

The medic-nin blinks, a swirl of conflicted emotions clear in his eyes before he frowns down at you and your clenched fist. It's bleeding. You only notice now, gasping in surprise and terror because _you didn't do that._

He breathes out a tired sigh as he procures some antiseptic and bandages to tend to the wound you've made. _(The wound__** I've**__ made? Oh, god.)_

"Haruno-san… This alter is another facet of your daughter's psyche, with thoughts and feelings of their ̶likely _her _ ̶own," he explains, tending to your hand with almost unnaturally gentle care. "DID usually occurs because of some kind of emotional stress in an effort to cope within a volatile environment. Forgive me, but is there…" He trails off for a moment, using one finger to push up his glasses. "Are there problems at home?"

He's suitably discomforted. It's a personal question and it's clear that he already has an inkling as to what life is like for you at home. Perhaps not the worst of environments ̶_(they care, for all their fumbling, and he sees that) _ ̶but neither is it the best type for a child to grow up in.

You hear your mother scoff, offended at the implications of such a query. "Are you honestly suggesting that it's _our_ fault that she's developed such a worrying mental illness?" she demands. You don't dare to turn her way and see the expression on her face.

Your heart constricts. The room feels oppressive. I can hear you mutter things from the crevices of your mind ̶_("It's their fault, __**it's theirs!**__ I just want them to be happy! __**I just want to be happy!**__") ̶_before you abruptly attempt to shove the associated emotions into my area. As you do.

I intentionally push it away and ensure that you hold onto that feeling. You tense as you realise that I can make you_ miserable._

_(I just want you to be happy, too. I just want you to be okay.)_

"They argue," I hear myself mutter with your voice, once again noticeably lowered and dull. _(I hate it.) _The room stills. "They argue about who she should be; how she should be; what she should be… She doesn't know what to do because she doesn't want either of them to unhappy with her. It's ruining her."

It's _me _who turns and meets the medic-nin's eyes. I control your body and it's ̶ _it's hell._ I'm not used to this, to being _alive_, even if it's only for a moment or two. I feel your heart beating like a drum within your ribcage and it's_ petrifying._

_(It tingles. Your body tingles and I feel it and_ _ **it hurts.** _ _I want to throw up. I want to die. But I don't even know what it means to be alive. How can I die if I'm not alive? Why?_ _ **Why?** _ _Why does it have to be like this?)_

There's intrigue, wonder and pity in his eyes of beige ̶_(Sasuke looks at you with intrigue and wonder, but there is no pity to be found. Not for you) _ ̶because he can see the difference between us. He forms a soft, kind smile that is meant to be disarming. I can't help but distrust it. _(Your smiles are like that. I always hope that the mirror cracks whenever you smile upon its surface.)_

"Who might you be?" queries the medic-nin, his curiosity genuine, as though I'm meant to have a name of my own. As if that wouldn't separate us even more than we already are.

I don't answer; instead, I return your body to you so that you may cry in anguish.

Now, your bullies have more things to harass you with. They have something more concrete than the fact that your hair is pink; that your forehead is a little bigger than average; that you're painfully shy and kind to a fault.

Now… You really_ are_ a freak because you have another entity ̶_(an entity that is a part of you. It disgusts you. That hurts, you know) ̶_that corrupts your body like a parasite; one that can take control at any moment.

_(You cry. You are quiet in your sobs but loud in your sorrow. They see._ _**They care.** _

_I scream. You ignore me, and no one else can hear.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

You don't want to accept me. I am the ugliest parts of you that you despise; surely, accepting me would make you a terrible person. _(It would make you whole. It would make __**us**__ whole. __**That's a good thing.**__)_

The appointments that are meant to bridge the gap between us are fruitless. _(They can't help you if you don't try.)_ Your diet and your sleeping schedule are quickly degrading because you feel sick every time you try to eat something. Worry gnaws at your insides at the idea of me taking control of your body when you manage to fall asleep. _(It's alright. You don't have to go to school in the mornings, anyway. Not for a while. No one will miss you.)_

Further and further, you separate us. Don't you understand that widening the gap between us is a_ bad_ thing? _(For fuck sake! You idiot! Why the fuck are you so usele ̶) _It's immensely frustrating. _(My bad. I apologise. I'm sorry. __**I'm sorry. **__I didn't mean to lash out.)_

It's funny, you know; your unadulterated fear of me only makes it easier to wear your skin as my own. I'm not entirely sure how._ ("Try not to focus so much on your fears. You only give them more power that way because you subconsciously ignore everything else that you don't already expect to come true. Understand?")_

It makes me sound like some kind of monster haunting you in the night, doesn't it? Feeding on your fear to strengthen myself. I'm not a monster, Sakura. _(__**I'm you.**__)_

Everyone who cares is trying to help you. Your mother, who disdains my existence almost as much as I do, tries to help by cooking your favourite meals and assuring you that_ you're_ not what's wrong._ (Nori-san says that she has to accept both of us. She's promised to try. Of course, it's a __**lie.**__)_ Your father, who tries to help by taking your mind off of the DID dilemma. Meditation, stamina training, ninja trivia, etc. You've inherited his superb chakra control, but not his grit. _(Meditation helps you hear me better, so you whimper and tremble every time he asks you to do it. A true warrior, aren't you?)_

Nori-san is trying and he's little more than an acquaintance. It's his job, of course, but it's clear that he's genuine in his desire to help. He gives you the option to open up to him, to talk to him about things you'd never tell anyone else. He tries to make you feel like you are worth something; he tries to tell you that you're not a freak but a kind girl who needs help with finding herself.

You don't listen. You know that Nori-san and I have the same ideas on how to make you better; somehow, you've managed to convince yourself that I've successfully manipulated the nice medic-nin and so you can't listen to anything he says because they're lies. No matter how much they make sense or how sincere he is.

_(I think you like wallowing in your own self-pity, sometimes. I think, in some unhealthy fashion, you_ _ **like** _ _the idea of being broken. Maybe you're the kind of person who is suffering and wants help but does_ _ **nothing** _ _when you finally get it. On and on, the cycle goes. Right?)_

Ah, but I suppose I can't blame you entirely. We both know how your mother feels about me, and we both know how much you look up to her. _("That thing inside her is an abomination! Like some grotesque, sentient form of cancer! __**Shut up**__, Kizashi, that thing isn't my daughter no matter what you say!")_

Now, she can't even touch you without looking into your eyes and trying to see if I'm watching her through you. Like I'm not a part of you, warped and disjointed as I may be.

_(Please, tell her to stop._ _ **Please.** _ _)_

There's only so much I can take before I destroy the remains of your existence and wear your skin as my own. You don't understand how empty of an existence that would ̶_(will) _ ̶be. I don't want that, and neither do you.

_(But you're deaf to my pleas. Nothing has changed.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've researched Dissociative Identity Disorder but I'm not an expert, so I apologise if I butcher things with my ignorance and/or creative liberties. (Also, sassy Sasuke is sassy and it's kind of cute. To me, anyway.)
> 
> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	5. Don't Want To Know

Your fears eventually come true; I wear your body as you fall into short, fitful rests.

You're so exhausted, running on fumes and fright all the time. Your mind does its best to recover, while mine remains conscious and static. I can't sleep. This sometimes means that I am in control of your body, regardless of whether I want to or not.

_(I'm sorry. Your body needs to rest, too. I stunt its process with my presence. I apologise.)_

When I'm in control, I venture downstairs to the kitchen where I eat for you. You can't keep your food down, so I must do it for you. The food is bland because I can hardly taste the flavours, but I still eat so that your body can continue functioning.

Sometimes, this is how your father finds me. As I sit at the kitchen table with some kind of food in front of me ̶_(cereal, most of the time, because you're too small to cook effectively) _ ̶and stare ahead with a certain sense of surrealism in the middle of the night. _(It's a mundane act; eating. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.)_

"Sakuran," your father greets from the archway. _(Sakuran, they call me. It means,__** 'derangement.'**__ Your mother suggested it. Isn't she thoughtful?)_ He seems to hesitate for a moment before walking forward and taking a seat across from me. Our eyes meet and I am greeted with confliction, guilt, pity, worry and much more. "I would've cooked something for you if you had asked."

I stare down at the soggy cereal before me. "I didn't want to bother you," I answer, and it's true enough. I don't like to talk to anyone. It's unnerving to talk and have someone respond.

Your father shifts, discomforted and uncertain. Then he sighs and runs a hand through his slicked-back hair._ (Rose pink. Your hair from your father. Mint green. Your eyes from your mother.)_ He knows the true meaning behind my words and so we fall into a tremulous silence as I eat for you. He's not one for comforting and I'm not one for being comforted.

Twenty minutes of silence, save for the light clinking of a spoon against a ceramic bowl. Twenty minutes, only because I look at the clock on the wall and realise that time has passed. Time is a peculiar concept for me. I can't feel the passage of time, so I always feel as though I'm stuck in one place. Trapped.

_(You and me, Sakura. Alone, not alone._ _ **Trapped.** _ _All we can do is try.)_

"Will you show me how to meditate?" I murmur in question, looking up from the empty bowl to a fraught father that wants to help but doesn't know how to. His eyes widen with some surprise before it melts away into a grim sort of gratefulness. He nods.

_(But you're not_ _ **trying.** _ _)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

You're not getting better, and the times in which I inhabit your body are becoming longer. It's becoming difficult to remember certain things because there are gaps in your memories; blank spaces that are supposed to be filled. This is a horrifying revelation, as it means that I'm active in your body even when you're supposed to be awake and aware.

"Why a-are you doing this to me?" you whisper into the mirror, crumpled on the floor and looking so small and broken. Your eyes shine with tears shed and unshed. "Why is… Why is this h-happening to me? I just… I… I just want to be _normal._"

_(I know. I'm sorry. I don't want this, either.)_

You sob; it's a cracked, pitiful sound. You cry; your shoulders shake violently and tears and snot are leaking everywhere. It's not particularly attractive, but it doesn't matter. You're allowed to just cry without caring about how it looks aesthetically.

_(I want to cry, too. I want to scream and shriek and hit something._

_I don't._ _ **I can't.** _ _)_

"I'm sorry. I want you to be happy, too." I wipe away your tears and your snot. There, in the mirror, I see a mistake. An accident. _(Don't worry. It's not you.) _"I'm sorry, Sakura."

In your body, I stand. It's time to endure the vehement glares from your mother ̶_(or the suffocating silence of one being ignored because they're unworthy of being acknowledged, but those times are rare) _ ̶and the grim expressions of your father as he teaches me how to condition your body properly. Since you can't do it in your current mental state, I try for you.

_(I'm trying._ _ **I'm trying.** _ _It's not enough. I know that.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

Sometimes, late in the night after I've eaten for you, I leave your house to go sit upon a hill that overlooks a large portion of Konohagakure. The hill is fairly isolated, located closer to the Uchiha Compound where most people seldom venture. Your father showed it to me for when I needed a place to think.

It's marginally pleasant to walk outside when the nights are cooler than the days. Unlike you, I don't like the heat; I can't see the appeal. Maybe that's because it's cold where I am. (_It's not cold. It's not anything. Just an ever-present emptiness that eats at our soul.)_

When I make it to the top of the hill, there's an uncommon but not unfamiliar sight of a certain boy sitting close to where I usually do. Decked out in ANBU gear but his mask absent, dark eyes of jade-black slide over from the view of the village to me. _(They're similar, but not the same. One is softer; warmer. The other is not.)_

For a few moments, we simply stare at one another in silence. Assessing each other; processing the fact that neither is unfamiliar with the appearance of the other. _(You've heard from the rumour mill that he's close to being promoted to an ANBU captain soon. It means nothing to you, but I remember.)_ He eventually nods and I nod in return.

"You are often here," he observes once I take a seat not too far from his left. It's the first time I hear his voice. _(Soft. Vaguely masculine but not yet solidified. __**Gentle.**__)_

I turn my attention to the scenery before replying, "It's nice to get away from everything for a little while, sometimes. Isn't it?"

I often wonder what he's trying to get away from, but I don't voice the question out loud. There's no need to ask such an intrusive question when he's yet to ask me the same. Truthfully, I'm not sure how I would even be able to answer such a question.

_(I'm running but I'm not moving. Static. It's suffocating, so sometimes the wind gives me the illusion that I'm free.)_

The Uchiha heir hums in quiet acknowledgement before he lets the silence sit between us. For a little while, I'm able to think of nothing.

Then, "Haruno-san."

Your skin begins to tingle, goosebumps travelling throughout your body at the name. _(It's not my name. Don't call me that.__** I don't have a name.**__) _An almost violent shiver wracks your body. _(In discomfort. In self-loathing. Nothing is mine.)_

"No."

"I apologise," Uchiha murmurs. I can't see his expression, my gaze fixed on the grass, but he shifts in my peripheral. "I did not mean to upset you."

Forcing out a sigh, I feel your body relax. "Sakuran," I say, still neglecting to turn and meet his gaze. "If you need something to call me; call me that." But it's not my name. It's little more than a pseudonym.

A moment of silence. "Sakuran-san, then," he eventually replies. "Call me Itachi."

That's when I turn to finally look at him. His face is tilted towards me, but he's looking up at the sky ̶_(at the moon; you always wonder if anything is on there) _ ̶with the same neutral expression as before. Albeit, somewhat calmer. Somewhat peaceful. _(But not entirely. __**Never.**__ Not for him. Not for me.)_

"Itachi-san, then," I echo. I don't question why.

_(I don't want to know.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	6. The Both Of Us

"Did you choose to be who you are now, Itachi?" I whisper in question, staring up at the darkened sky and wondering would it would be like to fly. Maybe it would be nice to feel weightless and unchained for a moment, before gravity clutched onto your body and dragged us back down.

I see Itachi tilt his head in thought from the corner of your eye, but he doesn't respond immediately. "I do not believe that many of us get to choose who we are in life," he murmurs in response. Despite the lack of a straightforward answer, it still feels as though it's a statement that he personally resonates with. I understand.

_(I have no choice. It's you who chooses, and you can't even do that properly.)_

It's a strange thing; this bittersweet sort of camaraderie between Itachi and I. _("We have known each other for a while, now. Do you not feel the passage of time?")_ You still don't know about him, and you're probably better off not knowing. Perhaps you'd be excited to know the brother of the boy who holds your affection; perhaps you'd be restless. Either way, we both know it wouldn't work out well for you. _(Can you tell me what's worked out well for you, Sakura? __**Can you?**__)_ I suppose you are a good example of what the term, _'ignorance is bliss,'_ embodies.

_(I'm here; you_ _ **know** _ _I'm here. But you're still so blissfully ignorant, Sakura, and the pain won't go away._

_ **The pain won't go away.**_ _)_

"What would you choose to be?" Itachi inquires after one of our many prolonged silences. _(And yet, there's still sound. His soft breaths. The quiet hisses of the wind against your ears. The odd sound or two from the village I can't call my home.)_ Somehow, it's become an unconventional standard for us to ask one another questions about the other. Maybe to get to know each other. Maybe to distract ourselves from the demons that haunt us.

He rarely uses my pseudonym, if he can help it. Itachi knows what it means to me ̶_(it means __**nothing**__ and yet it means __**everything**__ I don't want to be) _ ̶so he considerately avoids using it for my benefit. _(Is it supposed to hurt; feeling grateful? Appreciative? Why does it __**hurt**__ so much?)_ In return, I call him by his first name. Itachi. Just, Itachi; the boy upon the hill with the solemn gaze and warm ̶_(hurting) _ ̶heart whom I may be able to call my friend.

_(It makes me want to scream. I don't… I'm not meant to have friends. I don't. __**I can't. **__But I have one, anyway, and I can't even be happy about it because I don't know_ _**how.** _

_How can I be happy that I have a friend when you have none? It's not me who needs a friend, but life is cruel, isn't it?)_

I exhale, taking a few moments to blink away the dryness in your eyes. The answer to his question is both easy and annoyingly complex because, "I would choose to be whole." And how pathetic is that? That there's nothing more to aspire to than to just be a whole, human being named Haruno Sakura. It's such a low standard and yet… it's so out of reach. _(You make things so __**difficult,**__ I don't understand __**why **__ ̶)_

"When you are a ninja," Itachi begins, his voice almost swallowed by the building gust of wind, "you eventually lose parts of yourself." I tilt my head towards him, but I don't turn to look at him. Instead, I stare at the rippling blades of grass and think of nothing. "Every day, many of us struggle to fill the holes in our souls. I am one of them, and I do not believe that it is bad to have the simple wish of being whole."

Feeling his gaze on my face, I finally build up the effort to lift your head and meet it with your own. _(He's warm and he's cool and soon, I will have to say goodbye.)_ "Maybe you can meet her, one day," I offer, regardless of how much they feel like pretty, empty words. "The whole, functional kunoichi known as Haruno Sakura."

The smile he gives me is heart-wrenching in its bittersweet, sincere meaning. His eyes shine with what would seem to be the sheen of unshed tears, and when I blink, I think your eyes might be the same. _(Your lips are twisted, but I don't know if that's a smile. It hurts, yet it's not as wide as yours. Does__** everything **__have to hurt?)_

"I would like that," he accepts, reaching over to grasp your hand with his own. Itachi doesn't acknowledge the instinctual flinch that physical contact evokes, instead allowing me to take my time as I get used to his touch. I think it takes more time than I think it feels like, but he doesn't seem to mind.

_(He doesn't say,_ _ **"Maybe Haruno Sakura will be able to meet Itachi, one day."** _ _Because we both know that, as improbable as my offer is; his is simply…_ _**impossible.** _

_My friend, Itachi. If I could cry, I would cry for him, too.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

You can't breathe. Your heart is thumping in your ears and threatening to travel up your throat and choke you. Rocking back and forth, you cover your ears in a futile effort to block out the world around you.

They're screaming, arguing once more about whose fault it is that this family is a wreck. You can't move from the lounge room, hiding behind the couch as the kitchenware clatters from the adjacent room. _(You're frozen, hiding away like a terrified mouse whose heart is about to fail. I__** can **__help, you know. Even if it's not the best way.)_

"Her condition is worsening and you're_ not_ helping!" your father snarls, his spiking chakra so prominent and frustrated that it fills the air and soaks into the walls. "Why can't you fucking accept that they're both our daughter?! Because they are and the fact that you think one of them is a_ thing_ rather than a _person_ helps no one!"

You violently flinch at the abrupt shattering of some kind of ceramic object. "Because they're not! Sakuran isn't even _human,_ let alone my daughter!" And that ̶ _that sears. (But it's the truth,__** isn't it?**__)_ "Do you see how empty its eyes are when it's using our daughter's body as a flesh suit?! Do you?! Our baby is being eaten away by this monster and _you _want to_ accept it!_"

Their voices become muffled, then, just as your vision begins to blur and darken. You feel nauseous and you want to throw up, but you can't do more than rock back and forth in a constant, repetitive motion. _(It's not helping.)_ You don't even notice the snot and tears that soak your face, your body ̶_(__**your entire soul**__) _ ̶too overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down.

It's at this point that you think about how things might be better if you just stopped existing. You think that, maybe, they'll be happier if you just… _disappeared._ Then, they wouldn't have to argue anymore. They wouldn't have to worry about you or be forced to provide for you. Nori-san would no longer have to deal with you, so he'd be able to focus on more important things.

No one will miss you. (_**How dare you think ̶**_)

"Please," you sob, and I pause as you try to talk through your dry heaving. "S-sa…" You don't manage to finish your sentence, but I understand.

_(_ _ **"Save me."** _ _)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

"I'm afraid to say that Sakura, the primary personality, has fallen into dormancy due to a severe mental breakdown," Nori-san announces, no happier than your parents ̶_(no happier than __**me,**__ oh god, why?) _ ̶at the confirmation. He heaves a deep, solemn sigh before, "That means that Sakuran, the alter, has become the dominant personality indefinitely."

Your body is shaking, and I sharply exhale as I attempt to calm it. Your mother screams in anguish, the sound so piercing and yet so unexpectedly dull in your ears. There's a clatter of something, but I don't turn to look. _(I don't want to.)_

As your mother falls to the ground, your father is there to kneel by her as she clings blindly to him for non-existent comfort.

I breathe in your place. _(And I hate it.)_ I move in your place._ (And I hate it.)_ I live in your place.

_(_ _ **And I want to die.** _ _)_

Tilting my head towards a silent Nori-san, who shifts in acknowledgement at my attention. "I'm going to go… for a walk," I breathe out, standing from the cold, metal chair to make my way towards the door. _(I need to get away; to mourn for the sleeping, broken soul that I've tucked away into our essence.)_

"Alright," Nori-san replies. "But please, don't go too far."

As I nod, I catch the eye of your father ̶_(Kizashi; it's time to call him that) ̶_before I leave. His expression is like crumbling stone; he's trying, but he's grieving just as much. He looks at me ̶_(at the body that's no longer yours because it hurts to live) _ ̶and he sees his ̶_(their) _ ̶failure. I stand before him until he nods in resignation and lets me go. _(Your mother never looks up. She sobs into her hand and she doesn't stop. __**I envy her,**__ in this moment.)_

I don't look back as I close the door. Then I wander, left to my thoughts ̶_(what joy, indeed) _ ̶and the environment of the sick and the dying. Maybe you would've been a medic-nin at some point. I think you would've been a great medic-nin, what with your inherent kindness and desire to help others. I think… I would've liked to see you be a combat medic-nin, so that you could hurt just as you could heal. Because the world is cruel, and people step on kindness and compassion if you let them. You would have to protect yourself, after all.

_(But that's just a fantasy, isn't it? Our story isn't a fantasy; it's a reality and Haruno Sakura doesn't exist in this one.)_

Perhaps I'll have to do it, instead; become a medic-nin that can hurt and heal and poison and break. _(We already know how to hurt; how to poison one another; how to break each other. All we need to do, now, is learn how to heal.)_ I'll think about it. Even if I don't become one for us, iryou ninjutsu would be useful, regardless. _(I can't die before you've decided to live again.__** I can't do that,**__ Sakura, no matter how much I want to.)_

My train of thought is broken as I'm about to pass a room that has your object of fascination held within it. I pause, taking a moment or five to register the back of his weirdly-shaped hair; the hospital gown draped over his small, somehow defeated form; and the fact that he's here, sitting up in a hospital bed and staring out the window with no one for company.

Your chest tightens, a sharp sting of pain seizing it and immediately reminding me why I don't want this. _(Why I don't want a life without you and me as one person. But I don't get what I want, __**I know.**__) _I step forward, anyway, my footfalls quiet despite the suspiciously barren hallway as I enter his room before closing the door. _(A part of me wonders how I managed to get to this part of the hospital, but the rest doesn't care.)_

"Sasuke."

His hand twitches. Then, gradually, he removes his dead-eyed gaze from the window and places it on me, instead. For what feels like a long while, Sasuke simply stares through me, unable to properly register my presence with his shattered existence distracting him. _(We can relate.)_

Then he blinks, gradual recognition brightening his eyes somewhat to give him at least some sort of life. I wait patiently ̶_(I wait aimlessly) ̶_for him to finally reply, since there's not much else that I have to do. _(How am I supposed to live for you?)_

"You…" he mutters, his hoarse as though he's been screaming for days. Maybe he has been. His eyes search your face, looking for some kind of confirmation. I blink, and so does he. "You're back…"

Something about that hurts. I feel your face form into a bemused frown as I take a few steps closer to the side of his bed. "Were you waiting for me?" I ask, conflicted on how to feel about the fact that he recognises me; _that he's been waiting for me. (I don't want hope. I don't deserve it.)_

Sasuke's head droops slightly, a slow blink further emphasising his fatigue. It seems to trigger a similar reaction in your body, as I feel a weariness begin to weigh down your shoulders. "Maybe…" he whispers. "Sakura took a leave from school… So… So, I couldn't look for you. I don't know why I… What was the point…?" He stares down at his bandaged hands, spreading his shaking fingers as if they might have the answers to his questions.

"Sakura's gone, now," I reveal, watching his fingers twitch at the information. "What's been taken from you, Sasuke?"

_("Have you ever felt the inevitability of tragedy, Itachi?"_

_"Yes. I feel it. I fear that I will always feel it.")_

Surprisingly, Sasuke huffs out a weak puff of air at the query. His fingers curl until they've become tight fists, his head lifting enough to let me see the barest hints of a wry smirk. "Just… _everything,_ you know…? My parents… My cousins, my aunts… My uncles… All dead; murdered by my brother… Of all people. No… _No big deal…_" His breath hitches, his attempt at sardonic humour failing as he fights back an unwanted sob.

_("I apologise. I know it is presumptuous of me to request that you keep my brother company when I am gone.")_

"Do you…" I grimace, unsure of how to deal with a broken Sasuke that's on the verge of crying. "Do you want me to leave?" Because he probably wouldn't appreciate me watching him like some kind of weirdo as he grieves for his fallen clan.

"_No!_" he chokes out, his voice cracking as he scowls at me in offence. "You think you can… come in here a-and make me _feel_ something again… then just _leave_ when I'm… W-when I'm…?"

I exhale as he trails off, a dull sense of guilt gnawing at me as I watch him hunch over and clench his chest as he weeps in desolation. _(Rocking back and forth, unable to breathe, see or hear properly; you begged for me to__** save you.**__)_

"My bad," I murmur, before climbing up the bed to sit with him. And despite his current state, he moves to accommodate. _(It hurts me. I don't know why.)_ Although, he doesn't really give me a chance to settle when he violently seizes your hand with his own. Somehow, we _both_ tense and flinch at the contact before he forcefully intertwines his fingers with yours like vines entangling together.

Sasuke glowers at me, his face all red and wet and snotty. _(It's almost cute; in a desperate, sad way. __**Like you.**__) _"Why aren't _you_ crying?" he snaps in question as he holds onto your hand like a lifeline. I assume he asks because he doesn't want to be the only one bawling. "You… You lost S-Sakura, didn't you?"

Your mouth abruptly twists _ ̶(is it a grimace, or is it a smile?) ̶_your chest tightening as something stabs it incessantly. Sasuke blinks, seeming to take in whatever expression I'm forcing your face to make. I squeeze his hand with enough force to bruise it, but he barely seems to react. I suppose he's not the only one who needs a lifeline.

_(How does he_ _ **know,** _ _I wonder? How does he manage to see you and me as different entities? Why does it feel like relief and devastation mixed into one?)_

"I can't cry, Sasuke," I answer. _(With self-loathing. With guilt. With anger and resentment because why did __**you**__ have to be the one to leave?)_ "No matter how much I want to."

_(Maybe he can cry enough for the both of us.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	7. Familiar With The Flavour

"That's it," Kizashi says, his voice carefully neutral as I wait outside, between the front door and the open window beside it. "We have all we need."

Mebuki shifts, her body gently thudding against a wall or a counter. She takes a deep, sniffling inhale. "I loved you," she whispers, almost inaudible for me to hear. "Maybe… I still do. I don't understand why things turned out the way they did, Kizashi… Where did we go wrong?"

_(Is that rhetorical? Or is it genuine? How can she_ _ **not** _ _see where things went wrong?)_

"We married young," Kizashi replies, so still and stoic. "Maybe that was our first mistake. We rushed into creating a family because of my occupation and, as a result, we weren't prepared to be parents. Our child deserves better from us."

A sharp exhale escapes Mebuki as she sobs, "She's gone, Kizashi…! Our baby is gone and I… I don't know if I can ever forgive ̶"

"Don't finish that," he interrupts, firm but not sharp. Just tired. The fabric of his clothes rustle as he begins to move towards the entrance. "Whoever you're thinking about probably doesn't want your forgiveness. Whether it's you, me or our child. So, it'd be probably best if you stop thinking like that."

"Kizashi ̶"

"I'll see you, Mebuki." Then he closes the door behind him and doesn't look back.

The sound of your mother's muffled sobs echo within your ears.

_(You can't hear her. You can't hear anything.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

Sasuke squeezes your hand to the point that it should hurt ̶_(the warmth scares me more) ̶_as he physically refrains himself from snarling at the whispering villagers that they're passing by. He fails at some points, such as when someone is too close for his comfort.

He reminds me of a wounded dog that'll bite anyone who's a threat. _(You remind me of a dead one who gave up on trying to live through another day.)_

"How far is it?" he asks with a near hiss, his shoulder brushing up against yours and making it somewhat awkward to walk properly. "I'm going to punch someone in the face if we don't get there soon. Hasn't anyone told them that it's rude to stare and whisper _like a bunch of dicks?_" He makes a point of raising his voice at the end.

Several people in my peripheral flinch. Some hastily look away, embarrassed. Others sneer, probably with distaste for the Uchiha's ̶_("I swear to god, Sakuran, if they call me 'The Last Uchiha' within earshot __**one more fucking time,**__ I will backhand someone!") _ ̶uncouth manner of speech.

I don't manage to catch any other reactions as I make a turn down an empty alleyway and quietly reply, "We're nearly there. One of the conditions for letting Kizashi have custody over you was making sure that we lived near the Hokage's office." It also just so happens to be close to the hospital, too, so the pair of us don't have to travel far for our future evaluations on our sketchy mental health.

"Obviously," Sasuke mutters with a bitter click of his tongue. "It's surprising that they let me go with anyone at all, let alone an independent genjutsu specialist. Scheming dipshits." He spits to the side as if the very thought of scheming old people brings forth a repugnant taste in his mouth.

In the time that we've gotten to know each other ̶_(three months, two weeks, four days; I still can't feel time move) ̶_I've come to the realisation that your object of fascination has an unusually foul mouth for a main branch member of the Uchiha clan. _(Does it still count if he's the only one left? Does Itachi count if he's a traitor who killed them all?)_ In class, he hardly spoke at all, preferring to scowl in silence and spend as little time with his peers as possible. Of course, it wasn't unheard of for him to occasionally spit out something acerbic, but it was uncommon.

_(You thought of him as mysterious and cool and confident; someone whom you wanted to be. But now you're not here to be anyone. Not even yourself. Whoever that was.)_

As of late, though, he seems to talk and hiss at everything with dramatic visual flair. _("Do you think I __**want**__ to deal with awkward silences because we're both too dead inside to talk? No. No, I don't. So, I have to sacrifice some of my remaining sanity to make sure I don't have to deal with it.")_ It's… odd, but it might be a coping mechanism and I've unwittingly gotten used to his eccentricity.

_(Sometimes, he makes me smile. Sometimes, he makes me happy. And I hate myself a little more every time.)_

"Kizashi won't be home for a few weeks," I tell him as we enter the apartment building and head for the stairs. His grasp tightens when your hand nearly detangles from his._ (How long will he keep doing that? It doesn't seem healthy.)_ "But I still have a training schedule that I have to follow."

_(I just want to sit in a corner and_ _ **die,** _ _Sakura. I just want to be whole. But you didn't let us be and I_ _ **hate ̶** _ _)_

Readjusting the strap of his bag, Sasuke responds with, "Right, cool. I'm joining even if that wasn't an awkwardly cryptic invitation of some sort. I'd like to see how long it takes before I collapse in exhaustion and proceed to hate myself more than I already do. Which is a lot, just so you know."

Your lips twitch involuntarily until it becomes a small smile that I can't wipe away fast enough.

_(Three months, two weeks and four days without you.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

I watch as Sasuke survey the three bedroom doors before he casually opens the one leading to mine ̶_(it should be yours; ours) _ ̶and walks straight in. Following him, I come to the quick realisation that he's quite aware of the fact that this is my room as he places his bag on my bed and begins to nonchalantly unpack.

"Sasuke," I mutter, already half-resigned because arguing takes too much energy._ (Being alive takes too much energy. Breathing is automatic and yet it still feels like a chore.)_

"Sakuran," he mutters back, albeit more drawled out and vaguely petulant.

Looking over my shoulder, the door to Sasuke's room greets me. The door to Kizashi's room is further down the hall. "You should go unpack in your room," I try, turning my attention back to my new housemate. Roommate?

As he easily finds an empty drawer ̶_(I don't have a lot of clothes; yours are back with your mother) ̶_he begins to fill it with his clothes. Lots of blue shirts with obnoxiously high collars. Lots of black pants and compression bandages. "This _is_ my room, weirdly bare as it is," retorts Sasuke, who seems to be actively avoiding my gaze. "We're going to share, didn't you know?"

"Sasuke…" This isn't healthy. _(When has it ever been?)_ He shouldn't get attached to me. _(I don't want to be here.)_

A harsh exhale escapes the boy ̶_(broken, jagged Sasuke whose edges dig into me) ̶_before he quietly reveals, "I'd only ever go to sleep in the hospital when you were there with me." I don't respond. He continues to fill the drawer with his belongings. For a while ̶_(maybe; I don't know) ̶_the rustle of fabric is the only sound to be heard. Eventually, he breaks the silence with a soft murmur of, "I _know_ it's the same with you."

_(It's an accusation. It's a plea and Itachi asked ̶)_

I sigh in defeat and Sasuke grins to himself in triumph, his movements no longer rigid with tension.

. . .

* * *

. . .

It turns out that he's better than I am at cooking, mostly because he cares more about taste than I do. _(I don't eat for pleasure. I'm still trying to get your body out of its state of malnutrition.)_ So, he takes the lead over preparations for dinner.

"Hospital food was straight fucking trash," Sasuke complains as he works on the tamagoyaki ̶_(we had to go out and buy the specific pan for it, alongside a suspicious amount of tomatoes and other groceries and it was almost nice to see him positively animated in public) ̶_with a notably practised ease. I wonder if he learned because he wanted to or because he had to. "I know you don't give a shit about your tastebuds, but I have standards, alright? I need salt and seasoning and probably a reason to live. Do you think revenge is a good one?"

Shaping the onigiri, I think of Itachi and his sorrowed existence. Itachi and his request to look after his beloved little brother. "What level of revenge?" I absently question.

_(I miss him. I miss you. Both you're both_ _ **gone** _ _and I don't know if either of you will ever come back. If either of you can.)_

Sasuke hums in contemplation. "Maybe a good punch to the dick," he muses, his tight grip on the handle of the pan belying his casual tone. "And/or a mind rape of epic proportions and a possibly futile demand for him to explain why he decided to be all like, 'sorry, bro, I had to test my strength by literally murdering everyone in our clan except you because reasons, you get?' before peacing out like an _asshole._ Which is, by the way, fucking off. I mean, Itachi was ̶" He cuts himself off, most likely because his tone almost becomes fond. He tries again, "He was always a weirdo with his obsessive overprotectiveness, but he'd never…" A frustrated sigh leaves him and he evidently gives up. "You know what? I'm going to focus on the food or we're going to be eating my angry tears for dinner. Do you want my angry tears, Sakuran?"

"No," I breathe out, mildly amused despite myself. _(You're not here and I don't deserve to be happy, so the guilt rots within your flesh.)_ "Maybe another time."

. . .

* * *

. . .

When the food is set on the table only meant for three, Sasuke cries at the sight and we end up eating his grief tears for dinner.

It's the first time I'm able to taste anything and I wonder if it's because I'm already familiar with the flavour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	8. The Exact Same Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Chapter Nine written and that'll be uploaded soon. After that, however, I don't know what's going to happen. My inspiration has been going haywire as of late.

Sasuke blinks, taking in your ̶_(my?) _ ̶appearance with a slight tilt of his head. "Well, you look like a really sad pretty boy with wicked messy hair," he remarks, reaching out and gently pulling on one of the longer bits of hair sticking out. His eyes gleam in a peculiar way, like he's darkly satisfied about the change. _(I don't like it.)_

"That's nice," I dryly reply with a glance at the mess of pink hair on the floor with a newer feeling of loss. _(You'd be upset. I tried to delay it for as long as I could, I promise.)_ We'll have to burn it all later. There are lots of unsavoury things people could do with a single strand of hair.

He smirks, all boyish and fond when I focus on him again. It's still weird to see him look like he might be somewhat okay with being alive. But it's not bad. It just hurts to be even mildly pleased about something without you here to feel it, too.

"It is, isn't it?" he snarks, using both his hands to comb through your ̶_(my; but it doesn't feel right) ̶_hair for loose strands. He nearly pokes me in the eye when he ruffles your ̶_(__**my!**__ This is so frustrating) ̶_bangs and it makes me wonder if I should do the same to him. "Now we're a pair of blue and pink pretty boys with messy hair. I think this calls for an official name, don't you? Something that really encompasses the feeling of broken children who're dead inside. Maybe we can even recruit other poor souls in the future."

I exhale as a smile forces its way to… _my_ face. Trying to fight it gets tiring, especially when Sasuke is around. And he's always around, whether I like it or not.

_(I don't deserve to smile, I know. I don't deserve to know what it feels like to be accepted and cared for.)_

When he finally retracts his hands from my ̶_(is it getting easier? I still feel uncomfortable) ̶_hair, I suggest, "Try something that's alliterative," before moving to clean up the floor. We'll have to prepare dinner after we take a bath together. He's got hair all over him, too.

With a considering squint of his eyes, Sasuke nods in agreement. "What do you think about 'The Asshole Angst Association'? My first thought was 'The Furious Fuckboys Force' but I think that implies something that doesn't suit us preadolescent virgins."

The surprised laugh that escapes me burns my insides.

. . .

* * *

. . .

Today is your ninth birthday.

You aren't here to celebrate it, so Sasuke insists that I have to celebrate it for you. _(He thinks of it more as my first birthday, rather than your ninth. I know that, even if he doesn't say as much.)_

Kizashi is off on another mission, and sometimes I wonder if he's taking so many long-term ones to avoid looking at the daughter he failed. _(I don't blame him. I refuse to look in the mirror every day.)_ But he's left some things for me ̶_(and for you; the anmitsu in the fridge isn't for me even if I'll be the one eating it) ̶_on the kitchen counter before he disappeared.

"Weights?" Sasuke mutters as he examines the implied birthday gifts. There's no note to express birthday wishes and it's probably for the best. _(I wouldn't appreciate it and Kizashi wouldn't enjoy writing it.)_

I reach for one of the supplements and examine the label. "We can share these," I suggest before putting the bottle down.

Sasuke hums in a noncommittal manner, which means that he'll only take them if I make him. "These types of weights are expensive, you know." He holds up one of the five black bands and tries to keep his face straight. A frown shapes his expression, regardless of his attempts. "The material they're made from is what makes them heavy, so they look innocuous instead of obnoxiously bulky. I guess Kizashi is saying you're a weak noodle that needs to get them gains."

"He's not wrong," I respond, and there's a quirk to my lips that I can't quite get rid of. "He'll probably get you the same on your birthday." Or earlier, since that's four months away.

"I'm not a weak noodle, Sakuran," Sasuke scoffs, finally dropping the band with the others. I'll have to put them on later. _(And then I can pretend that the weight pulling me down is caused by my own existence.)_ "Didn't you see the way I punched that random dumbass in the park the other day?"

I remember. We thought it was a good idea to make an attempt at being in a public space for a training break, just to see if we could handle being around people for a somewhat extended period of time. The attempt failed when a civilian kid trotted up to them and suggested that maybe there was a good reason as to why the Uchiha clan was massacred.

It was childish ignorance ̶_(but perhaps they were right, in a way; Itachi wouldn't have committed genocide without a viable reason) _ ̶that fuelled this comment, but it was Sasuke's raging grief that fuelled his decision to break the kid's nose and probably their collar bone.

_(Will he ever know the truth? Will I? Do we want to?)_

"Only the weakest of noodles would brag about something like that," is my retort as I make my way to the fridge to prepare breakfast. Sasuke hisses and throws one of the supplements at me in retaliation for my grave insult. I instinctively catch it just as it passes my shoulder and put it down near the stove.

He mutters something about how he's going to be the strongest noodle there ever was before he decides to help me.

. . .

* * *

. . .

You hated spicy foods, I remember. Your nose would run and your tongue would burn and you hated how even spices were stronger than you.

_(I hated that you let herbs drag your self-esteem into the depths.)_

So, of course, because life is cruel with its irony, it turns out that I like spicy food. Sasuke wanted to literally spice things up during dinner for reasons ̶_("I feel like destroying my tastebuds tonight, Sakuran, how 'bout you?") ̶_so we made tantanmen.

I like it. _(I like it and I __**hate**__ that I like it because I don't want to like __**anything,**__ let alone something you despised.)_

It's the first time that I've ever liked the taste of something and my nose doesn't run, nor does my tongue burn. I like it and I can taste it and I hate that you lumped everything you considered distasteful with me. _(You're brilliant at causing me pain. Would you feel accomplished if you knew?)_

"You look like you want to cry," Sasuke notes from across the table with a suspicious squint. His ears are a little red, but he seems to be doing relatively well. "And not from the spices. Are they even bothering you?"

I smile. It might be bitter. The way he blinks seems to confirm that. "They are," I reply. "Just not how you'd expect them to."

_(I guess I shouldn't talk about herbs hurting your self-esteem when it's having the exact same effect on me.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


	9. Home, Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the support that this fic's received. I'm glad people are enjoying it.

"We have to go back to the academy next week," I inform Sasuke after reading the note left by Kizashi, who's actually in the village but is busy helping the TIF with torture. Presumably. "And the hospital check-up has been moved to tomorrow because of it."

I hear Sasuke's long-suffering groan and the thud of their training bag against the floor. Hopefully, the neighbours don't complain. "Fuck my life," he whines, his increasing proximity towards my back making my senses tingle despite him being an ally. "I hate people, though." He practically falls onto me in order to rest his head on my shoulder. "Don't you hate people?"

"You already know that I don't have the energy to hate anyone." _(That's a lie. I hate myself. I hate everyone that pushed you into leaving, just a little bit.)_

Sasuke scoffs before he wraps his arms around my midsection and replaces his forehead on my shoulder with his chin. I feel tense and uncomfortable with the form of contact, but he ignores my feelings on the matter. As per usual. His desire to be as clingy as possible outweighs my discomfort, obviously.

Neither of us speak for a few long seconds, but he soon breaks the silence with a quiet, "They're going to get up in our business, wondering why we're together; why you're different; why _I'm_ different." His grip on me tightens a fraction. "Someone's going to get decked in the face first day back, I know it. It'll probably be Naruto, that bastard."

I tilt my head towards him, confused as to why that would be the case.

Uzumaki Naruto was your other seatmate, I remember, but he generally kept to himself during class. Outside of it, however, was when things tended to get chaotic because people didn't like him for one reason or another, so he often retaliated with fairly malicious pranks that left the other kids obviously traumatised.

You didn't interact with him because you found the way he smiled at other people scary ̶_(that's what your justification was, but you just didn't want a bigger target on your back) ̶_but sometimes you'd catch him smiling at you like he was genuinely pleased by your presence. Why, you never knew. But you'd return an unsure, awkward smile on the off occasion you could maintain eye contact for more than two seconds.

_(Sometimes, you thought, 'maybe, just maybe we can be friends and I won't be alone anymore.' But then you'd hear people jeer at him, and you'd see him smile back at them like he was waiting for a reason to act. And so you left him alone.)_

Aside from that, the only other notable thing in your memories regarding him is the fact that he and Sasuke seemed to have a weird type of unspoken rivalry during practical lessons and practical lessons alone. _(You've never seen Naruto even bother with theory lessons. Instead, you'd see him make origami out of the paper.)_ They'd barely interact otherwise, so I don't think he would say something worthy of a black eye after having not seen his unspoken rival months after the massacre.

"Why him?"

Sasuke gently bumps his head against mine. "Because you're Sakuran and not Sakura," he reveals, an annoyed tinge to his voice. I blink at the unexpected response. "He won't like you because he liked her and I'll get pissed off when he decides to be an asshole about it because I like you and I didn't like her. I still don't." Hugging me tighter and burying his face into the crook of my neck, I hear and feel a muffled, "Sorry," that just makes me tired.

One liked you and the other likes me but they couldn't like _us,_ could they? You couldn't even like yourself, let alone me ̶_(and I could never like myself, anyway, so long as I'm separated from you) ̶_so how could we expect anyone else to?

So, I tell him, "I get it," and I mean it. I can't blame him, even though it bothers me. _(Sasuke, the Uchiha's spare. How could he look out for anyone but himself?)_ I can't blame Naruto, either, even though a part of me ponders on how much he could've helped if he had just talked to you. _(At the very least, he cared. It wouldn't have been enough, I know. But he cared and that has to count for something. Right?)_ We only have ourselves to blame, but only one of us is here to deal with the fallout.

_(I miss you, Sakura. I miss being whole. But I can't remember what that was like.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

Nori-san jots something down on his clipboard. Some part of me hopes for there to be something worthwhile written. Something like possibilities on how to bring you back. _(It's wishful thinking.)_ But I know that it's irrelevant information describing how I feel about the relationships in my life and my own self-reflection on how we got here.

_(_ _ **I hate this, I hate me, I hate you, why ̶** _ _)_

"We've made some changes regarding your person," he says after a while of silence. I look away from the vase of lilies by his window and towards him, his glasses glinting in the sunlight as his expression shifts into something apologetic. "Haruno Sakuran now officially exists as a derived entity from Haruno Sakura, so your particular profile will be presented to the correct parties from now on. It will say that you suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder and that you're currently the dominant personality, which will give you the legitimacy to become a ninja."

My chest hurts. _(Why did you do this to me? To us?)_ I don't want this. _(But I'll go through with it. You're not here to become a strong kunoichi, so I have to do it for you.)_

"I understand," I sigh, glancing to the door where Sasuke's surely waiting outside. His sessions always end early because he doesn't like talking about his feelings to anyone except me. He thinks that they wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain. _("You get it, Sakuran. Even if it's different, we were both betrayed by the people we love and left for dead.")_ And even though they've tried bringing me in as a supposed source of comfort, it doesn't make much of a difference when there's still a stranger in the room.

_("I_ _ **feel** _ _like you're a piece of shit and I don't give a shit about your generic seven-step plan to recovery! Why don't you make a new one and put Step One as, 'Get Uchiha Sasuke a psychologist that can actually do their fucking job'?")_

I think he's too aggressive towards someone who's obligated to help, but it's understandable when the said someone is as grating as Sasuke's psychologist. Why should he open up to a person who clearly doesn't care even on a professional level? _(Why isn't anyone doing something about it?)_

Nori-san looks down, his brows furrowed with worry because, unlike the psychologist, he actually cares. _(It's too bad that it's not enough.)_ "There's also the matter of your education being behind because of Sakura-chan's absence, which is also the case with Sasuke-kun." He shuffles through his papers. "Though I disagree with how they've decided to go about this, it isn't mandatory for the both of you to arrive at or leave the academy at the same time as your peers." With a sigh, he continues, "While they say it's so you can catch up on your coursework without distractions, it's mostly in place so the two of you can leave or arrive late without repercussions if either of you are feeling overwhelmed."

That works, I suppose, even if it seems like a rather lackadaisical approach. Neither of us are excited about returning to school, but there's the chance of being able to break Ami's face when she inevitably tries something because she thinks I'm you._ (I'd make it hurt. I'd make it memorable.)_ You always hesitated striking back because you didn't _really_ want to hurt anyone, and what if it wasn't enough? What if you just pissed them off more and caused yourself more misery?

But I'm different, I know. All the negative energy you forced upon me is still here, still pent up and simmering beneath the thin layer of numb emptiness. You gave up before you even tried, but all I've been doing is trying. For you. _(For us.)_ I'm trying and you don't notice. You don't care. You're not_ here._

So, I can do what I want with Ami, right? You're not here to care about hurting your bully ̶_(so kind, Sakura. Where has your kindness taken you, now?) _ ̶I can make her bleed like she's done to you. I can tell her that you're beautiful and that you're worthy of being alive. I can tell her that I'll break her face ̶_(__**that I'll break her will to live**__) ̶_before I actually do so.

But I won't. Not unless she provokes me first. _(Would that be good enough for you?)_

"Sakuran-san…"

Broken out of my thoughts, I focus on Nori-san once more. His gaze is one of pity and a smidgen of hope. "Didn't you once say that Sakura-chan would have liked being a medic-nin?"

I blink at him, bemused, before clarifying, "I said that she would've been a good one." You didn't think that far into your future. You couldn't. It was hard to think about specialisations when your psyche was breaking down before you could even get the qualifications to become a genin.

"Yes, right," Nori-san answers with a self-deprecating smile. _(He's trying to help, I understand, but you're gone and I'm tired.)_ "In any case, that's why I'd like to offer you medical ninjutsu lessons. Your chakra control is naturally on par with your fathe ̶ " I twitch at the term and he catches it. He coughs. "With Kizashi-san, I mean. Meaning you'd be prodigious at both genjutsu and medical ninjutsu, should you decide to pursue either."

There's no point in refusing, I suppose. Anything I learn would be useful to you if you come back. _(I wish you'd come back. You should be learning this, not me.)_

"I'll accept. Thank you for the opportunity."

Nori-san beams so brightly that it's almost blinding. His back immediately straightens as he exclaims, "Excellent! I'm generally quite busy, but I can teach you during our appointments since I feel like you weren't getting much out of our current arrangement." Rapidly scribbling down something, he adds, "I'll also assign a genin to tutor you when I'm not available. He's very capable at medical ninjutsu and knows how the hospital works; maybe the two of you can even become friends. He's a few years older than you but you're both very mature for your ages, so I think you'd get along."

My first thought is that Sasuke isn't going to like this. He's only going to become more possessive at this rate and I don't know if I have it in me to distance myself from him.

Would he leave if you returned, I wonder? Or would he try to bring me back, regardless of my wishes to let you stay?

_(I already know the answer. It's not the answer I want.)_

. . .

* * *

. . .

"This is weird," Sasuke states with hunched shoulders and squinty eyes as he practically holds a bowl of rice to his chest. Kizashi looks unfazed, if not a little weary. "Your presence makes things weird. I'd ask you to shoo but that'd be rude, especially since this is your apartment, too."

I hold back a smile as your father raises a brow at him. "As opposed to how courteous you're currently being?" he retorts, although there's a faint tone of amusement in his voice. Sometimes, I think he might have a sense of humour hidden somewhere beneath his stoic shinobi façade.

With a smug smirk, Sasuke snarks back, "I'm being downright fucking angelic. Nothing's broken aside from my soul and I'm not on the verge of a mental breakdown, just the halfway point. Isn't that impressive?"

Kizashi's lips tilt downward at the news, his demeanour somehow becoming more solemn than before. "Would your current mental states be a hindrance towards learning about genjutsu?" he questions, looking between the two of us.

Sasuke and I glance at one another. I shrug. He turns back to Kizashi and shrugs as well. "Fuck it if it is. We could use our draining sanity against others or something, right? Make them feel the pain of being live angst machines."

"That can be our name," I suggest. We haven't been able to come up with one since we've been trying too hard with the alliteration.

"Holy shit," Sasuke gasps, delighted, "you're right! The Live Angst Machines!" But then he frowns in consideration. "Except just about every ninja in the world would qualify." A fairly dramatic sigh of disappointment escapes him before he says, "I'll keep it in mind if we've really run out of options. My latest idea was, 'Dicks Don't Die,' but the only explanation I could come up with a name like that is that it represents a group of dudes with priapism."

With a processing blink, Kizashi gracefully moves on without a single comment while I unsuccessfully try to smother my grin. "Then I'll make preparations for future lessons. In the meantime, just make sure to keep up with your schoolwork."

"I don't think it matters whether we do or not," I remark as I break up the salmon on my plate. "They won't let Sasuke fail to graduate just because his grades are too low, which means that they won't let me fail since he'd just stay with me if they did."

"Scheming dipshits," Sasuke hisses, spitting to the side as per his obscure traditions. He doesn't actually have saliva in this one, though, since they're indoors. "Fuck 'em."

Kizashi elicits a long, tired sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. "I can agree with that," he mutters, leaning back in his seat. "They're still trying to make you live alone or give you to someone less independent. Hokage-sama says he's on my side, but he's let shady shit fall under the radar before, so who knows what'll happen if I let my guard down."

I feel a frown forming on my face ̶_(it's automatic now, being able to say that this body is mine even though I know it's yours. It doesn't feel like an accomplishment) _ ̶as I realise that sounds vaguely treasonous. Maybe that's why he's always going on missions. Maybe they want him dead and out of the way, which would leave the two of us free from any of his theoretical machinations. It might also mean that they could try to use me as a bargaining chip without interference, since they're obviously aware of my importance to the 'Last Uchiha.'

"And people said Konoha was the softest village of them all," Sasuke quips as he scowls down at his food. Then, a sharp and bitter smirk contorts his face. "Home, sweet home, am I right?"

_(Home, sweet home… What does it feel like, I wonder, to belong?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's kind of angry in this chapter, aren't they? 
> 
> Reviews are love. Reviews are life. It's never ogre. Thank you for reading.


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